“What?” I asked.
“They want to examine you. Your injuries, specifically.” She hesitated. “They say they’ve never seen a Destran before. Never seen the marks up close and they’re too afraid to ask any of the D’tran. They’re curious about your biology.
I glanced at the Kythran elder, who was watching me with dark, curious eyes. There was no ill will in his expression, justintense scientific interest that reminded me of Zara when she got excited about weather patterns.
“Tell them yes,” I said. “If it helps build trust between our species, they can examine whatever they want.”
Zara translated, and the Kythran’s entire posture changed. He straightened slightly, some of the fear leaving his frame, replaced by what could only be described as academic enthusiasm.
The examination was surprisingly gentle. The Kythran’s hands were cool and dry as he traced the edges of my injury, making small sounds that Zara translated as notes about healing rates and tissue damage. But when his fingers touched the mating marks on my neck, everything changed.
The marks flared. I felt a sudden warmth and a tingling sensation that spread from where the Kythran’s skin met mine. It felt as if the marks themselves shifted, moved like a slithering reptile under my skin.
“What the—” I started and slapped at the Kythran’s hand.
The Kythran jerked back as if burned, speaking rapidly to Zara.
“Torven, your marks changed,” Zara said, her eyes wide. “When the Kythran touched them, the patterns shifted into something that looks like—” She stopped, staring at my neck. “Oh my god.”
“What? What do they look like?”
She pulled out her portable light and shone it on my neck, her hands shaking slightly. “They look like code. Like programming code.”
“That’s not possible.”
“Look for yourself.” She found a reflective surface—apiece of polished metal from one of the dismantled devices—and held it up so I could see.
The mating marks, which had been one clear pattern before, had reorganized into geometric shapes, lines and symbols that did indeed look like some kind of written language or computer code. As I watched, they shifted again, cycling through different patterns before settling back into their original design.
The Kythran was speaking rapidly, excitedly, his voice rising with each word. Zara listened intently, her expression moving from confusion to shock to something that looked like hope.
“What is he saying?” I demanded.
By now, the commotion had attracted the attention of the D’tran, who had been trying to put the chamber to rights while we waited for the crawler to return to bring us back to the fortress. Vikkat knelt before me, peering at the marks and then at Zara. “What happened?”
“The Kythran touched Torven’s mating marks and the pattern changed,” she told him, then turned to the Kythran who had called his brethren to his side.
“He recognized the patterns.” She grabbed my hand, squeezing hard. “They’re the same patterns used in the weather control systems. The same coding language.”
I stared at her. “That’s not possible.”
“It’s not just possible. It’s intentional.” She was talking faster now, the way she did when her brain was making connections. “The Kythrans say the ancient engineers who built the weather towers might have hidden some code in thegenetics of the people that came before Destrans and D’trans.”
Vikkat shook his head at the Kythrans. “Oppressors put these marks in us. To control us. Your people were the oppressors.”
“No.” Zara placed her hand on Vikkat’s forearm. “Don’t you see? The Kythrans didn’t force these marks on those people. This indicates that the tech was designed for multispecies cooperation. There was a time when Kythrans and the people who both you and Destrans share as an ancestor, were working together. The Kythrans and this earlier people needed each other. They hid the code. It needed a Kythran to activate it. It’s likely therewasan oppressor bent on destruction, but it wasn’t either of you.” She raked her fingers through her knotted hair. “This changes everything we thought we knew about the origins of both of your species. Oh, I’mdefinitelygoing for that Ph.D., just so I can write a paper about this.”
“That’s great, Rivers,” I said. “But how do we use any of this?”
The Kythran was still talking, gesturing at my marks and then at his own body, at the chamber around us. Zara translated in fragments, her voice breathless.
“The Kythrans are just as surprised as you both are. They say their records were incomplete. There were strange holes in the data they had, and this explains why. With this new information, it’s possible that the access codes to interface with the weather system architecture can be used to override the towers once and for all. To shut them down.” She touched my neck gently. “Oh, Torven. This is what’s left of yourancient heritage from this planet. No idea why it takes a mate to trigger it, though.”
“You’re saying the Destran mating bond is literally a key to the weather system.”
“I’m saying it’s part of a larger key. One that probably requires activating more of the marks to get the full code.” She turned to Vikkat. “That means we need access to all the unique marks on your people.”
Dorek shook his head. “They may not touch me or alter my marks. Sacred. They define each of us, and are written in ancient language.”
